


dreams under white bedsheets

by flirtingwithtrackers



Series: tumblr drabbles [5]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:45:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3973423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flirtingwithtrackers/pseuds/flirtingwithtrackers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>literally just a bunch of smutty bellarke drabbles</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 18. flashing the other

**Author's Note:**

> hI HELLO, okay so this is just a collection of smutty drabbles i have written for this [semi-nsfw meme](http://clarkeslight.tumblr.com/post/116069967892)!!
> 
> across universes and stuff, every drabble is separate in itself -- all they have in common is bellarke smut
> 
> hOPE YOU ENJOY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this first one based on a smutty headcanon me and [commmanderblake](http://commmanderblake.tumblr.com) were yelling about a few weeks ago involving exhibitionist!clarke lolololol _oops_

They’re walking to the coffee shop across the street from the law building, Clarke skipping ahead of him, her short floral skirt flowing around her upper thighs. She looks back at him, smiling widely, her blonde hair waving lightly in the breeze.

“Hurry up, old man. I need coffee before my chemistry lecture,” she calls at him, finally stopping up ahead to wait for him. She can practically hear him grumbling even though he’s feet behind her, tugging his backpack further up his shoulder.  


A gust of wind blows then, picking up Clarke’s skirt as it rushes through the corridor, bouncing off the brick walls of the halls towering above them. She quickly throws her hands down at her sides, pressing her skirt to her thighs, but not before Bellamy gets a look at the creamy white skin of her upper thighs. He smirks at the pink flush on her face, but it quickly dies away when Clarke’s lips quirk up into a playful grin.

Clarke grips the thin material of her skirt, her knuckles brushing her thighs lightly. Bellamy is staring at her, shock spreading across his face as he quickly realizes what she’s about to do. She bites her lip as she pulls up on the fabric and lets go, letting the breeze lift her skirt up as she spins around. He gets a good view of her pink thong, and the side of her bare ass before the skirt falls back down around her legs and Clarke is looking back at him, waiting for his reaction, her mouth open in giddy amusement.

A girl next to them in the hallway is staring at Clarke in shock, her cheeks a bright pink as she quickly averts her eyes. Clarke laughs then, the bright sound filling up the corridor and the girl looks back up at her quickly, giving her a small smile as she walks by. She gives Clarke one more curious look before disappearing around the corner.

Bellamy’s eyes are wide when she looks back at him. He rushes to her then, hands passing over her skirt to rest on her thighs, keeping the flimsy material down.

“What were you thinking?” he asks, quickly looking around to see if anyone else saw.  


Clarke laughs then, playfully pushing his hands away. “Oh, don’t be such a buzzkill,” she says, tugging on his hand as she walks backwards down the pathway, still trying to get Bellamy to the coffee shop. She pulls him forward, waiting until he’s standing in front of her before she leans in.

“I know you liked it, anyways,” she whispers up into the space above his shoulder, dragging her other hand up the rough material of his jeans over his inner thigh. Bellamy’s hand quickly covers her, his groan barely contained as he pulls her hand away, looking down at her with dark eyes.

The flustered look on Bellamy’s face causes her to laugh again as she leads them towards the coffee shop, his hand still gripped firmly in her own.

Clarke only _slightly_  regrets her little show later when Bellamy is sitting next to her in their shared art history class, his hand up her skirt, dragging a fingernail over her clit through the useless material of said pink thong. He stops every time she makes a sound, pressing down harder a few moments later. Clarke’s thighs are shaking when the lecture ends and Bellamy nonchalantly removes his hand, leaving her wet and wanting.

She is quickly satisfied later that day when they finally get back to his apartment and Bellamy has her bent over the kitchen table, their hands entangled and pressed up against the wood of the tabletop.


	2. 23. trying to go down on the other, under the table, during dinner

She’s sitting at a table in the back, her legs crossed and the silky blue material of her dress cascading over her knees. Her mother is talking animatedly with some of the chairmen on the hospital board–too busy to bother Clarke about the importance of networking or set her up with another handsome son from a very wealthy doctor family–leaving Clarke to sit the in the corner and sip her champagne in peace.

She only got to see Bellamy for a few moments before he hurried off to the kitchen, throwing a playful wink over his shoulder before disappearing through the swinging door at the back of dining hall housing yet another hospital fundraiser. Clarke is looking forward to the after, when Bellamy usually has her pressed up against the wall of a bathroom stall or empty custodian’s closet, his horrendous clip-on bow tie hanging haphazardly from his opened collar as he hitches her dress up around her hips.

Fucking the hottest member of the catering staff has made her mother’s mandatory work functions so much more bearable. One late night waiting in the kitchen, sitting on the counter and drinking the leftover champagne, Clarke had run into Bellamy– _okay_ , he had run into her, quickly tumbling through the door without looking and right into her legs that were dangling of the counter–who immediately sneered, a disdained _princess_  falling from his lips. She found that she liked his lips much better when they were leaving hot trials down her neck as he pounded into her against the racks in the dry storage pantry.

Clarke can’t help but notice that his _princess_  is loosing its heat, his touch more endearing as he brushes the few errant strands that have fallen out of her updo from her neck before placing a kiss under her ear. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think that he was starting to like her, his smirks turning into genuine smiles and his hard eyes melting into rich dark brown pools.

She almost yelps when he slips in beside her at her table, quickly tightening her grip on her glass so she doesn’t drop it. Bellamy smiles at her, leaning in to press a short kiss to her jaw.

“Miss me?” he says, smirking.  


Clarke tries to stifle a smile, but she can’t, her lips curling up at their own accord as she turns towards him.

“Not at all, just waiting for this stupid dinner to end,” she says, giggling at the mock pout he gives her. She’s quickly cut off when Bellamy places a warm hand over her thigh, pulling it towards him so it falls off her knee, uncrossing her legs.  


“Why wait?” he says, cheekily, looking around quickly before ducking under the table. Clarke grabs his upper arm, trying to stop him, but he slips from her grasp. She frantically looks around, making sure no one noticed.

She tries not to jump when Bellamy wraps a hand around her ankle, his lips pressing to the skin above her heels. He kisses up her leg slowly, his hands following in featherlight patterns. Bellamy spreads her thighs as he presses to firm kisses to her knees, his big hands wrapping around her thighs and pushing them apart. Clarke unintentionally moves forward in her chair, sitting in the edge as Bellamy’s lips caress her inner thighs. She can feel him grin against her skin and her fingers tighten around her champagne glass, her other hand dipping into his hair under the tablecloth.

Clarke tries to look natural, unaffected, as Bellamy’s breath fans against her sex, his fingers running along the front of her nude panties–the only ones that didn’t show through the practically gossamer material of her gown. She almost drops her glass when he presses a chaste kiss to her clit through the fabric, quickly suppressing a cry.

His fingers are dipping underneath the elastic of her thong when she hears her name called from across the room. Dr. Abby Griffin stalks towards her in a sensible navy blue dress, the usual impatient look on her face. Clarke tightens her fingers around his dark curls, pushing him away and quickly closing her legs as her mother walks up to her table.

“Clarke, I have someone I’d like you to meet,” her mother says, an expecting smile on her face. Clarke lightly kicks Bellamy’s thigh before standing, one hand gripping the table to keep her steady. Her mother walks away, sure she will quickly follow.  


When Clarke looks back a few feet later, Bellamy is standing next to the table, his hands running through his mussed hair and a smirk on his face. She narrows her eyes at him, but it doesn’t take away from the smile on her face.


	3. 10. pinning the other against a wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oKAY SO I ADDED SOME SEXTING, SUE ME

He sent her a text earlier that day saying he’d be home late, stuck in an emergency meeting at the office. Clarke had been a little disappointed, her plans of making him dinner and then snuggling into his side on the couch as they watch shitty made-for-tv movies ruined. After quick deliberation and a search through the back of her lingerie drawer, Clarke decided she wouldn’t let tonight be a total waste.

She smiles as she presses **send** , a slow burn building low in her belly as she waits for his reply. Clarke’s still wearing the lingerie, enjoying the feel of the meshed lace against her skin. She looks over the picture she sent Bellamy again–her smile is visible in the top corner, followed by the long curve of her neck, with her cleavage at the bottom of the frame, showing off her dark blue lingerie. She may have pressed her arms together a little, her breasts pushed together in the middle.

 _Can’t wait until you get home xx_ , she had sent and she feels giddy rereading the message, impatiently waiting for his reply. She thinks about sending another picture, a preview of the matching panties, if he takes too long to respond.

She just finishes pulling one of Bellamy’s big white t-shirts over her head when her phone beeps from her dresser. Clarke rushes over, quickly opening the message, a nervous flutter tingling under her skin.

**Don’t start without me _._**

It’s not a suggestion, Clarke is sure, and it sends a rush of heat through her. Clarke slowly walks around to the couch, trying to ignore the way her erect nipples brush against the lace of her bra. She sits, waiting for Bellamy to come home.

She’s leaning back against the couch, her thighs spread and her index finger trailing light circles over her clit, relieving but not _enough,_ when she hears Bellamy’s key slide into the front door. Clarke quickly gets up, walking over to the foyer. Within moments of opening the door, Clarke is pinned against the wall, Bellamy’s arms caging her in and his knee pressed in between her inner thighs, keeping her in place.

“Please tell me your still wearing it,” he says against her cheek, his hand pulling at the neckline of the t-shirt to reveal her shoulder and the shiny almost-black blue strap of her bra. He groans as he presses his forehead to hers. Clarke’s breath fans against his neck as she laughs.  


“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispers fondly before kissing her hard, lips crashing into hers.  


His hand quickly moves up her thigh to rub along the front of her underwear. When he feels the wet spot, her arousal warm under his fingertips, Bellamy grabs her jaw with his other hand, angling her head up to look at him.

“Did you start without me?” he asks, his voice low and demanding.  


Clarke bites her lip as she nods slowly, taking in the impossible darkness of his eyes focused on her. Bellamy moves his knee up, pressing up against her heat until she whines. Clarke yelps when he bites down hard on base of her neck, heat flowing through her limbs and prickling her insides.


	4. 16. having some “private time” and the other accidentally walking in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "Where Bellamy walks in on Clarke."

Bellamy is surprised to not find her in the medbay. She has been running around camp all day, back and forth from the medbay, checking on a kid who came in with a fever and stomach pains early that morning. Even though Abby said she had it under control, Clarke refused to leave the medbay until her mother and Jackson asked her to consult Monty and Lincoln about any herbs that would help bring down the fever. Jackson gives Bellamy a small smile when he comes in looking for her before telling him they finally persuaded Clarke to leave, to go get some rest, and that she had just left.

He knows she’s okay, they’ve had plenty of worse days, but he had watched her work all day and he wanted to check in on her, as unnecessary as it was–or so he was sure she would say. Bellamy makes his way over to her tent, planning on ducking in to see if she was already asleep or if she needed anything–water, extra blankets–but he finds her in need of something else entirely, it seems.

Bellamy hadn’t heard anything from outside, too busy going over the very _valid_  excuses for being here this late in his head. When he lifts the flap to her tent and pops his head inside, Clarke is laying in bed but she is _not_  asleep; her cheeks are a heated pink, the blush spreading down her chest and disappearing into the v of her neckline; her lips parted, with short, fast breaths falling past them, and her bottom lip is wet as though she just ran the tip of her tongue across it; one hand is squeezing lightly at one of her breasts over her top, the movement of her fingers pausing when a small whine escapes her lips, and the other hand is down her pants, covered by the fabric of her underwear, but Bellamy doesn’t need much imagination to piece everything together.

He stands there for a few moments, mouth open in shock as a hot need burns down his spine and straight to his groin. Bellamy must make a sound, because Clarke’s desire-blown eyes snap open, noticing him standing in the entrance of her tent. She quickly sits up, removing her hand and crossing her arms over her chest. He notices how she keeps her hand at her side where he can’t see it and he tries not to imagine the slick stickiness of her fingers.

“Bellamy?” she yells, her eyes hazed but filled with agitation.  


 _Oh god._  “Yeah, sorry,” he exclaims, quickly turning around. “I just came by to check on you, I know you had a long day. I should have announced myself, but I thought you’d be asleep, but obviously you weren’t…”

Clarke isn’t sure is he’s going to keep on rambling, words pouring out of his mouth in that _deep voice_ when all of her attention is still focused on the throbbing in between her legs. She stops herself from putting her hand back, rubbing lightly at her clit as he talks.

“Bellamy!”  


“Right, I’ll just.. uh, be going now,” he says slowly, looking back at her one last time, taking in the pretty blush on her cheeks and the way the darkness of her irises swallow up the crystal blue. He lets out a deep breath once he closes the flap to her tent, making sure it’s zipped up all the way, before dragging a hand over his face and making his way back to his own tent.


	5. 1. grinding up against the other

She rolls her hips against him a few times before he catches on, his warm hands wrapping firmly around the curves of her hips. His chest is warm against her back, sticky and humid in the crowd on the dance floor, but the alcohol racing through her system already has her skin slicked in a thin layer of sweat, her hair sticking in clumps to the back of her neck. The music pounds in her chest, the bass in tandem to her heart pumping in her chest and the rock of her hips against the hard body behind her.

Clarke looks down to see the man’s hands gripped tightly around her hips, his hands big, fingers spanning across her abdomen in a deliciously possessive way that has her pressing herself against him. When her hands go up, moving to the beat of the music in the air above her, his hands shift up to her waist, rucking her shirt up until his hands are burning against the bare skin of her stomach. She closes her eyes as she moves against him, reveling in the feel of him behind her, his hold keeping her steady against him as other sweaty bodies swirl around them. 

She leans her head back against his shoulder, baring her neck as she pulls her tangled mess of curls behind her neck and lets them tumble over her other shoulder. Clarke can feel his breath hot and ragged against her neck as he leans forward into her, his grip never wavering. When he doesn’t move, doesn’t sink into her pulse point like she wants him to, Clarke curls an arm up and around, threading her fingers into the damp curls at the base of his neck. She presses lightly, moving his lips closer to his neck until he’s smirking by her temple.

He presses a hot kiss to the skin underneath her ear, smirking once more against her skin when he hears her sharp intake of breath, feels her fingers tighten in his hair. He runs open-mouthed kisses down her neck, his tongue sweeping out to taste the sweat glistening on her fair skin. His hands move further around her as he grabs onto her more fully, his fingers grazing the waistband of her jeans. A slow burn runs from his fingers down to Clarke’s center as his fingers curl lightly, digging into her skin, and his teeth graze along the curve of her neck.

He’s sucking at the base of her neck, his teeth digging in lightly before the broad of his tongue soothes over it. Clarke is rocking her hips back forcefully to the beat pulsing through them, her ass rubbing up against his groin in a way that makes him groan into her neck. Clarke smiles at the sound, her grin feral and beautiful. He releases the reddened patch of skin, a mark she will surely see in the morning–a thought that has another rush of need curling down her spine–and kisses back up her neck.

He presses a chaste kiss to her jaw once before Clarke turns her neck, pressing her lips firmly to his. Clarke takes no time parting her lips to him, groaning into his mouth as he licks into her own, the taste of bourbon on his tongue. He grips her sides, turning her around until her breasts are pressed against his chest. Clarke takes a moment to take in his features once more, noticing just how many freckles span the bridge of his nose and cheeks now that she’s this close, his breath fanning her face.

His lips quirk up into a smirk as he watches her take him in, her eyes latching onto the small scar just above his lip before he’s leaning back into her, capturing her lips with his own. His hands rub down her sides, one hand skimming down her hips to lightly palm the rounded flesh of her ass, squeezing lightly, making her gasp into his mouth.

He’s gripping the matted curls at the back of her neck, angling her mouth to deepen their kiss, when she’s finally pulling away, coming up for air. She presses her forehead into his shoulder as his hands sway her hips, keeping them moving to the music filling the damp air around them. She looks up at him then, studying the deep brown of his eyes, how his long eyelashes fan his cheeks when he closes his eyes slowly before reopening them, when she feels the need for more, the dull desire pulsing within her pulling her closer and closer to him.

She leans up, her lips brushing the sharp angle of his jaw.

“Clarke,” she says decidedly.   


He looks at her then, a curious look on his face before he nods.

He whispers his name into her neck, “Bellamy.”

That’s when Clarke grabs his hand, pulling Bellamy along with her, anticipation building low in her belly as they close the distance between the bar and her apartment, the deep bass from the club still pumping through her veins.


	6. 16. having some “private time” and the other accidentally walking in (again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> clarke walking in on bellamy, instead

Clarke is standing in the living room of Bellamy’s apartment when she hears a noise down the hallway. She had been sent by Octavia, spare key to her brother’s apartment in hand, in search of a textbook Octavia had left the last time she was over. Clarke was under the impression that Bellamy would not be home, probably working at the library or nervously tugging at his hair as he stares at his dissertation in a poorly lit coffee shop, but now she is not so sure. She quietly walks down the hallway, search abandoned as she steps towards the door to his bedroom. The door is partially open, a small crack settled in between the door and the frame.

When Clarke can’t hear anything besides her heartbeat pounding in her ears, she pushes the door open further, peering into the room. She yelps when she sees him on the bed, quickly turning around as Bellamy scrambles to cover himself. Bellamy was laying on the bed, t-shirt rucked up his stomach to show the swells of his abs. His eyes were shut, head pushed into the pillow behind him, and his front teeth were digging into his plump lower lip. His pants were unzipped, pushed slightly down his hips, and his cock was in his hand, thick and leaking as he slowly stroked up and down, eyebrows drawn in concentration.

Clarke is staring at the open door for a few moments, listening to Bellamy curse and shuffle, before realizing she should probably leave. Bellamy finds her pacing in the living room, her eyes wide and cheeks pink. She’s trying not to think about how deliciously he’d fill her up or how he’d taste if she licked the bead of precum off his tip before wrapping her lips around him when she turns around to look at him.

Bellamy’s staring at the ground, shifting to look up at her a few times before looking back down. If Clarke wasn’t so horrified, she would probably appreciate the way his cheeks are reddened adorably, the way his hand comes up to scratch nervously at the back of his neck, tugging at the collar–nervous ticks of his she doesn’t normally get to see.

“I didn’t know you were coming over,” he finally says, looking up at her sheepishly as he drops his hand back at his side. His shoulders are slumped, as though if he could make himself appear small enough, he might actually disappear.  


“Octavia told me to pick up her textbook. I didn’t know you’d be here,” she replies, crossing an arm over her chest, the movement shifting the material of her shirt over her breasts, stimulating her hardened nipples in a way that makes her want to groan.  


“Oh, she never said anything. I could have brought it over,” Bellamy says helplessly, looking at a spot over her shoulder and avoiding her eyes.  


Clarke bites her lip, losing an internal battle as her eyes drift down to the bulge in his jeans. Desire flares within her, a new wave of heat coloring her cheeks. She realizes she’s been staring too long when she looks up to see Bellamy looking right at her, his eyes dark and his wetted lips partially open. 

A shiver runs through her as he steps tentatively towards her, his arm reaching out lightly. Bellamy stops, giving her the option to meet him halfway or walk away, a gesture that has her heart pounding in her chest and warmth spreading through her limbs.

She gasps when his fingers wrap around her wrist as she steps forward and he quickly draws her in, lips falling clumsily over hers in his haste.


	7. 17. having a “friend” over and the other accidentally interrupting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this is clexa with unrequited bellarke from bellamy's pov

Bellamy comes into the apartment with a quiet click of the door unlocking. He shuts the door slowly behind him when he notices the lights in the living room are off and he assumes Clarke is asleep in her room just down the hall. He almost makes it to the kitchen before he sees them. Or, well,  _hears_  them.

The soft moan from the couch has Bellamy slowing backing up, squinting into the darkness of the living room. He briefly sees the golden crown of Clarke’s head in the shadows before she pulls back to look up at him.

“Oh, Bellamy,  _shit_ ,” she mutters, pushing off the couch. Bellamy moves to turn on the light then, blinking a few times. When his eyes readjust, he finds Clarke and a tall brunette standing a few feet away from each other in the living room. The other girl is staring at the ground, her cheeks pink and her hands held together in front of her, while Clarke is fixing her clothes, flattening down her tank top. 

He looks back and forth between them a few times, before a slow smirk spreads across his face. Clarke’s lipstick is smeared on the girl’s lower lip and her hair is mussed, the intricate braids coming out in small tufts. Clarke’s shirt is draped over the couch arm and her jeans are unbuttoned. She quickly pulls up the strap of her tank top before taking a quick look at the other girl before looking back at Bellamy.

“Bell, this is Lexa.” Her hands gesture a little carelessly in the space between them, “Lexa, Bellamy. He’s my roommate.”

Lexa looks up at him now, her pale eyes inspecting him closely. She nods decisively at him once. Bellamy chuckles a little, nodding back.

She walks over to Clarke then, her hand wrapping around her arm as she leans into her. Bellamy quickly looks away, suddenly interested by the pattern of their secondhand couch.

He hears the girl’s soft whisper, “I better get going, Clarke.” Bellamy looks up in time to see Lexa place a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll call you.” Lexa nods once again as she walks past him.

Bellamy waits for the front door to shut again before locking the door and making his way over to the kitchen. Clarke follows behind closely.

“Let’s get you some water,” he says, a smirk on his face when he looks up at her.

“I’m not drunk, Bell,” she says, pushing his shoulder.

“Well, you’re not exactly sober, either.” Clarke pouts adorably when he pushes her back and she stumbles back a bit, prompting him to grab her upper arm to keep her steady. She looks up at him, her big, blue eyes staring into his, and he quickly lets go, moving to the sink to pour her a glass.

“Thanks,” she says quietly when she grabs it from him, taking three big gulps.

“Have a good night?” Bellamy asks, the smirk returning.

“Yeah, I did,” Clarke smiles affectionately and Bellamy tries to ignore the way her lips are pink and swollen, fuller than they usually are. Her lipstick is still a little smudged and he grips the counter to stop from fixing it, from dragging his thumb over her upper lip. “It was a really good first date.”

“I can tell,” he says, trying to keep his tone teasing.

“Well, I’m going to bed.” Clarke presses her face to his shoulder for a few moments before pulling back, backing up into the living room. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Clarke.”

**Author's Note:**

> come cry with my on [tumblr](http://clarkeslight.tumblr.com) :))


End file.
